Euphony of the Skin
by aurora-sakura
Summary: Oneshot. Bella and Edward. Bella wonders just how far Edward can go without causing her harm when he's hungry.


Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephanie Meyer.

AN: Just something I wrote while putting off my novel for class :P I love these two. No flamers please! I don't care if you don't like Twilight, I know a lot of people don't. I don't want to hear it.

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The house was unusually quiet now. She could hear the birds, and river in the distance – just audible to her, but she knew Edward would be able to hear it clearly wherever he was in the house. She moved towards the kitchen from the stairway, more of a meeting place to the Cullens and put to more conventional uses after she'd come along.

She never liked them making a fuss over her in any way. She always felt uncomfortable when they did so, and that included cooking unnecessary meals for her. It was embarrassing to open the fridge and find fruits and vegetables and meat that had been bought for her pleasure only. She liked to eat before coming, cooking for Charlie and herself before Edward would pick her up in the afternoons.

At the moment, however, she could not convince Edward otherwise, and she entered the spacious kitchen to find him bending over a cookbook beside the stove, pulling out cooking oils and potatoes. She stared doubtfully at the roast on the stove top, nearly ready to be popped into the oven.

"You can't be serious! Who's going to eat it all?"

He spoke without looking up, taking out the potatoes and chopping them quickly and efficiently into quarters before reaching for the spice rack. "You can bring some to Charlie. He'll appreciate it. I just want to practice."

She sighed, knowing full well – having made up her mind – that she would be eating the Cullen's regular diet in no time if she got her way. He wouldn't need to cook again then would he?

But she didn't argue with him, knowing he would counter with wanting to give her human experiences – and share them with her – and apparently he thought having a boy cook for her belonged in that human-experience category. Besides, she was sure Charlie really would like the meal.

She just found herself getting irritated with the fact he was a good cook on top of everything else. The one thing she thought she did better than him…

Giving him one last irritated look when he looked in her direction – to which he simple grinned – she turned and went back into the main room.

It was gorgeous out. A beautiful day, therefore the Cullen's had missed school and work to take a "camping trip". They were out hunting, probably along the borders of Canada, or maybe even as far as Alaska. Edward didn't want to join them for another few days, to which Bella felt both guilty and delighted for, as he'd told her she was the reason for delaying the trip.

She listened to him set the timer on the oven, clashing pots around for a moment, though not nearly as loud as she would be, before she sighed and turned her body on the smooth bench to face the expanse of elegant, ivory keys. Edward's piano.

Carefully she pressed down on a single key so the sound resonated throughout the large room. She worried her bottom lip for a moment before setting both hands on the piano, picking out a meaningless melody, holding each finger over the keys hesitantly, not sure whether to press down or not, before jumping as Edward suddenly slid into the bench next to her.

He was always so damn quiet…

She turned her full attention on him, her fingers still hovering over the keys, watching as the corners of his mouth curved up in a smile he always seemed so ready to give her. He was watching her hands, as if she would gift him with more horrible playing. She would not oblige.

She wondered what secrets were hiding in its corners of his smile… the things he hadn't told her because he was worried she would look at him differently. He turned suddenly, catching her staring, and flashed his teeth in a way she knew was meant to seem alarming to most people, and _she_ only found intriguing. She caught lots of people looking a bit anxious when he did that, but she was long past that. She wondered, for a moment, how many people he'd killed, and remembered once more that she always purposefully put herself in such close quarters with those teeth…

She thought of asking him how many people he'd attacked before he was able to get a hold of his born-again body. She always pictured him sliding through dark alleyways with rats running around his feet, grabbing woman dressed in black by the waist… pulling them into the shadows under a canopy or bridge…

She'd seen too many movies.

But then again, it was hard to picture Edward in these situations. His face, in these moments of imagination, was usually different. Not really her Edward.

She pictured him giving her one of those looks he gave her when he was trying to figure out just what she was thinking – the frustration just there, right behind his eyes which were nearly black now due to putting off hunting to spend more time with her. She pictured his mouth lifting up as if she'd asked something silly, to avoid having to go into it. To avoid the tension and the memories.

She pictured him using it against her… telling her it was one of the reasons he didn't want her to be changed.

She spoke as if continuing the argument she'd conjured up in her mind. "I want to know what _you're_ thinking."

He looked confused, his eyes moving over hers, and for a moment she thought he would ask the same thing. "_I_ was wondering if you wanted me to teach you how to play."

She shook her head without looking down at the keys, suddenly not at all interested in the instrument.

"How long can you go without hunting… before…?"

"Before there might be an accident with you?" He shook his head, obviously amused at where her mind had wandered off to, though there was a strain in his gaze that wasn't there previously, and a small crease formed between his eyes. "Do you want to risk it?"

"You won't hurt me."

"Bella." He spoke her name as a warning, and she shifted so that both her legs were on either side of the bench, planting both feet on the floorboards to ready herself for a fight, lifting her chin in a show of defiance.

…Before promptly weakening as he placed one hand on the top of the piano, sliding it along the glossed black top as he leaned towards her.

For the life of her she couldn't lean away.

"Bella… you really do have a death wish."

Dark eyes… a small flash of his teeth and she supposed she was meant to be scared off. To tell him to stop.

She couldn't bring herself to do it.

His hand moved from his side to her waist, the other splayed out over the top of the piano. He hesitated just an inch above the cotton covering her side. His eyes did not leave hers as his fingers pushed against the fabric of her t-shirt, and she felt the coldness of his skin… his fingers then his palm as he laid his hand down flat on her side, sliding upwards to bunch the cotton. The sharp intake of breath was uncontrollable, as both her hands flew out behind her to steady her clumsy self on the thin bench, and his eyes darted down to her mouth for a second. She was positive his eyes had darkened… narrowing a fraction…

She was sure he could hear her heart beating rapidly, like one of the creatures he hunted. The beat to an ancient song she didn't quite understand as she felt her head grow light and her breath shudder out of her, something in the pit of her stomach coiled tight.

He paused at her hip, his fingers slipping down the contours of her skin, brushing over the waistline of her jeans, causing her to suck in her breath so sharply that he became very still. Her skin erupted in goosebumps.

But he'd stopped and she didn't like it. She was worried he would back off now, get off the bench and move away from her. Tease her about how easily she'd given in to him… how she'd reacted to just the simple touch of his hand there on her skin. _Her_ hand had found its way to the sleeve of his sweater, fingers clenched tightly into the expensive fabrics.

Then he was moving again, probably against his better judgement. His fingers moving upwards, brushing over her ribs, more prominent as she arched towards him. Towards his touch.

And then suddenly his arm was around her, pulling her against him, his other hand moving from the piano to her thigh, lifting her from the seat to place her in his lap so effortlessly she barely knew what was happening until she felt the chill of his body so close to hers, the sweet smell of his breath – made to lure her in – against her cheek, his fingers pressing a little too hard into her back.

She could hardly think of those things as his mouth moved over hers, slow, careful. A small noise escaped her as he caught her bottom lip between his. Her back bent as he leaned her backwards. Her elbow met with the keys, and a loud, dull unmelodious noise shook the room and she trembled as he murmured against the hollow under her ear something between a laugh and a growl and she rasped out his name against all better intentions.

Her heart felt like it was skidding all over the place inside the cage of her body as Edward bent over her, his nose against her jaw-line guiding her head back, exposing her pale, quite fragile skin… her wild pulse. She held her breath as she felt the cold heat of his lips part against this spot, and she clung to the back of his sweater, pulled tight over his bent back, as she waited for the teeth, the immense pain she'd already experience.

_This will be different. This will be what I want._

She closed her eyes and waited. Her head rested against the wood of the piano, hair spilling over the black and white keys as his hands slipped away.

And she felt him smile against her neck.

"_Breath_, Bella."

He moved away, and the warmth of the room washed over her. She sat on the piano bench, breathing deeply, unaware she'd forgotten to do so at all. Edward shifted her off his lap, turning his gaze from her completely so she couldn't see what was in his eyes – just how dark they would be now.

Her face flushed brightly just as he turned to look at her again, and she caught the strange look on his face – frustration? Anger? – before he smiled and a low chuckle escaped him. "I adore that." Her blush. She was too flustered to feel annoyed.

The roast… she could already smell it cooking.

He looked shaken. His eyes were darker than in the kitchen, than before he asked if she wanted to learn the piano.

The Piano.

"S-sorry." She sat up, holding herself up a bit awkwardly, feeling jittery. Troubled. She pulled herself into a sitting position with great difficulty, and leaned off the keys so another round of unflattering noise to fill the room to which he took another opportunity to laugh at her.

He turned away from her, and she could see the tension in his shoulders. He didn't have to breath… but he seemed to be doing it quite heavily.

He poised his fingers -- the ones he'd ran up her ribs a moment before, playing her skin like an instrument – over the keys before pressing down, roaming over them swiftly to form a language even she could understand before pulling the cover down, closing them off from his touch.

He spoke running his hands over the fine, black wood of the baby grand. "I guess we know how far I can go now on an empty stomach."

She bit her lower lip, watching the tension continue to ball up his shoulders, and cause lines that weren't there before to show between his eyes.

All she wanted was more.

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AN: I wasn't quite sure how to end this. I hope it's ok.

Review please!


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